Monday 8/16/21
Figured out--I think--how to convert the Downtown links to individual mp3 files. I'm presiding over a museum of art. Which all of the world will eventually have. Hopefully sooner rather than later. But there has never been anything like any of this, and that includes the radio segments, which are themselves works of art. For instance, I've listened to everything Orson Welles said on tape, and there's just so little of it. Imagine having the greatest genius of all-time, talking for hours and hours and hours about an endless array of subjects. And about life and humanness. About all of his diverse forms of expertise, about his unique art for the ages, showing you how he is, how he thinks, how fast he thinks. There is nothing like this audio record already, and I am only forty-five and have not even started, in many ways, because I have been denied a chance and a platform--what will be hundreds of platforms. I pick everything I talk about for a reason. I approach it with great care. I'm not just shooting the shit. I'm not just plugging something. I am creating.
Spoke to someone tonight who is going through a bad thing with a failing parent--failing in both body and mind. And, perhaps most of all, in spirit. They were telling me something they did not tell their spouse, thinking their spouse would have acted what I can only call cruelly. But I don't think they would have. And my friend was telling me they pick their battles. I said, you can't do that. You have to be honest. This is stressful. It's a lot. It's too much to go through alone. They were being paranoid, that this other person--their spouse--would respond in this way that I personally would categorize as evil, were it true. It was more stressful, and did not help with fear, panic, a diminishing of hope, to keep these things which I will not go into here, to themselves.
I can't imagine acting that way myself. I can only be honest, I can only be real. That made me reflect, because I am the person who is completely alone, and this person isn't. You could say, I suppose, that they're more successful with relationships. But I still think I'm correct. I think you share what concerns you with the people in your life, those that you are closest to, and I still believe this even if I have no one. At this juncture, anyway. Perhaps that has played a role in me having no one, but if it has, I believe it's a small role. People hate and fear and envy me because of the contrast between who they are, and who I am. I know this. No matter how close someone ought to be to me, based upon the nature of our relationship to each other--the title, the label--they will still often hate me, and they will commonly wish me dead, and seek to bring it about. Not in the terms they'd think of as trying to bring it about, but in ways that I know are true, that they could never understand, because they'd never quell their anger and resentment long enough to look at anything like this for what it is. They would only lash out further.
I would say that if you have to hide your fears, your feelings, your concerns, your humanness, from someone, then that's not a good person to have in your life. But people are mostly trash, they are mostly horrible, and if you don't make every excuse for them, then I guess you run the risk of having no one, given that so few people are truly good, truly strong, truly empathetic. I couldn't do what my friend does. If what they are saying is true, it's not a strong relationship, but they have to do something in their life, and they want certain things, and to not be alone, have a family, but that would not be for me, pretending and keeping secrets and holding back emotions and concerns and feelings just to have that, but to have it without support, connection, friendship. Nor would I wish someone to feel like they couldn't come to me--about anything. This particular thing was not a tiny thing, it was a hard thing, pertaining to my friend's parent and an aspect of their physical health. I told them to stop being a pussy, and to trust their spouse. Then I made a series of jokes that would likely land me in jail were I to repeat them here, but they were hilarious, and you have to laugh. You don't even want to know the name I came up with for a bulldog if I ever happen to have one. It's so wrong. I mean, there's wrong and there's how wrong this is.
I have become an adamantine in that I will take no bait from anyone up to no good. I won't go through the motions with you. You will have your day on here, or in some other public record, perhaps--in a memoir, an autobiography, a biography--but I won't deal with you, I won't interact with you, I will not stoop to your level, I won't engage, I won't indulge you, no matter what you say to me, because I know, with complete certainty, when someone is up to no good. Further, I know exactly what I am, what I do, and the level of those things. And there is nothing anyone can say to me to make me know those things any less than I do. I'm not like other people that way. I'm not like anyone else, I daresay, that way. In the past, I might engage, for a host of reasons. If my back was gotten up, if it was someone I wanted in my life and I didn't want them to treat me that way. But now, there isn't anyone I need in my life such as my life has become. If someone makes it harder at all, at this point, it's not that you'll even be dead to me. It's actually quite a bit more than that. After what I've been through. After the years in this hell. After trying to endure what I'll just say that no mortal--no other mortal--could endure. I don't think a supernatural being could endure this. I have accepted that people who should have been closest to me would end my life if they could. I've watched them try. I've seen their heartlessness, their hate. I've seen them treat me in ways they treat no one else, would treat no one else.
And does that hurt me? Of course. It hurts me because you think two ways. For a while, a long time, you think that it has to be you. You're the common denominator. What is wrong with me? you ask. But that's not the worst thing you think. Because in time, you realize that you're treated that way, you're hated, because of your virtues. Because of greatness. Because of your mind. Because of your moral quality. Because of your strength. Your purpose. The beauty you create, the beauty you represent. The truth you reveal, the truth you personify. And that's actually a worse feeling, because then you feel more screwed. Is that to be your life, misery and rejection and loneliness and discrimination and injustice and apathy and being loathed, because you've done everything too right and too well? What do you do then? So you actually end up wanting those same people to despise you and fear you and envy you and seek to hurt you, because you're a bad person, or a bad whatever. How's that for an irony? Because then you might exert some control; you can improve, that will remedy the problem.
But that's not what is happening with me. Say you had a parent, and they hated you. That would hurt, right? How would you deal with that? In this hypothetical, I'm just beyond that. I have accepted certain things that are what they are, which I don't think another person could accept. They're too painful. But when all you know is pain for a long, long, long, long time, and you represent truth, everything in your life is oriented around truth, you have to accept what is, no matter how painful that is. It's the only way to move forward. To endure. You can't cling, you can't go through motions of pretending, you can't set yourself up to be abused again and again, you can't lie to yourself. You just have to let it be what it is, no matter what that does to you or would do to anyone else, and play for the next thing--the next relationship, the favorable outcome that finally comes, the new life that grows out of the old one of hell.
Imagine walking around with that on your own, with no one, always alone? Getting better all the time, every day, and everything still getting worse, every day, when it was already the worst something could be? Imagine that. But that's the reality of my life, and with that being the reality, I will take no bait from anyone. There is nothing you can say to me to play upon an insecurity, because I know exactly what I am and the level I do what I do. In a way, it's like the drinking thing. I knew I wasn't going to drink again. I can feel changes inside of me that are beyond, in power and scope, what other people feel. I know when they occur. For instance, I'll feel them with my work. I'll know when I have changed again. I changed again, in that manner, in the spring, and in this summer. I remember how I changed after I wrote "Fitty." It's the same snow globe, but what is inside of the snow globe has been altered, added to. When you shake it, and the snow settles, the scene on the inside does not look the same. But everything is still housed within the same framework. For me, that's the framework of the person I am, and my genius. I realized a while back I had changed with the taking of bait. Someone could try a million times in a row, and it just wouldn't work. I know what I know.
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